You're all very kind, thank you for your kind words. For my part, I'm a very empathetic person (or sympathetic? I never get those right) and I'd switch places with her no question, not because it'd be noble or whatever, it'd just be easier.

What a hard week! This morning we went to the Doctor and he confirms Mrs. Gem has skin cancer. Outstanding hospital and staff lay out a slew of appointments, including a routine stress test this afternoon to ensure she can undergo the excision of the malignancy. She goes and comes back and goes back to work. I didn't even ask how it went, because it was just a basic test, not one of the ones where they really stress you. You walk on a treadmill for a bit and they check your vitals. Turns out, she failed, apparently having an unknown heart problem. For the first time In 27 years, I experience real fear for her. Not a fun ride. No, I would not recommend this to a friend.

I once encountered a jumble of cut granite stones in the rock/dirt-floored basement of a very old (late 1600s, early 1700s) farmhouse in New Hampshire. I told the owner it looked almost like a crypt. There was a 1 meter-wide canal of greenish water that made its way through. Very creepy. The guy said it was a crypt; a girl died of scarlet fever in the 1780s in the winter, so they built the crypt to store her until the thaw, but never got around to moving the massive stones. So yeah. Weird house.

So I was chatting with friends last night and we were talking about the journey of artists from their humble beginnings when their technical skills are poor, through much work and time, to the point when they can execute their ideas fully. Of course, I mentioned my F-F acquaintances who are what I call "emerging authors", and how much I've enjoyed hearing of their experiences and seeing things unfold for them. If I have a point, it is only that your success and progress have a positive impact beyond your own careers, and that is an encouraging and hopeful thought.

There are two hearts, not one, inside of my chest,That heat me and beat me from beneath the same breast,Two hearts here inside me all of my life,Two hearts that divide me and lead me to strife.

One heart is cold and it beats slowly but strong,It only wakes from its slumber when things have gone wrong.It cares not a bit for the details or pain;It just does the math, sees the truths that are plain:That the lesser evil of several is the right path to take,Even when what is lesser is bad enough to break,My other, warmer heart, that would quake and refuse,To weigh grisly horrors and could never choose,To live or to act when all acts are impure,And strength is what’s needed to overcome, to endure.No fear has my cold heart, just a grim, evil grin,It just shrugs and it nods when the bad things begin.

When the path to compassion and mercy leads through,Ruthless action and endurance and dreadful deeds I must do,My cold heart only smiles as the bad news comes in,When the delicacies all die and it’s time to begin.

Immune to distraction, it’s that heart I trust,When strength is what is needed to do what I must.To do things that no one ever wishes to do,To make tough decisions that I will come to rue,To prevent what is worse, to save all that can be, Knowing that one day those actions will damn me,When my warmer heart suffers long after the danger,Sees memories of horrors, and in my mirror, a stranger.

There are two hearts, not one, inside of my chest,That heat me and beat me from beneath the same breast, Two hearts here inside me right from my start,Two hearts that divide me and tear me apart.

One heart is warm, its beats swift and sure,With a rhythm that’s stronger when my conscience runs pure.It burns me and turns me from cold deeds to kind,It slows me and shows me the grief and its signs.It hears the hurt that lies hidden in laughter,Sees the wounds and the bruises and the scars that come after.It wakes me and makes me reach out my hand,To soothe and to comfort, to guide, and to stand,Between what is weak and the things that mean harm,It lends speed to my mind and strength to my arm.

It cares a great deal for the details and pain,It adds them all up, sees the truth that is plain:Limits don’t matter when choosing the right path to take,Better to try and to fail or to break.

I try to live up to my warm heart’s ideals,Though it shames me and blames me when things that are real,Defeat me and beat me with my own good intentions,Or haunt my mind with my own dark inventions.

Its my warm heart’s tender notions that make life worth living,They sustain me and restrain me and prompt me to giving,Recalling the days I spent on my knees,And the moments of mercy and the wisdom shown me.

And then there's the Smiling Man. He's a local boogeyman, a creepy figure with a rictus grin and wide, unblinking eyes. He is said to skulk in cellars and tunnels, and venture up at night, crawling rather than walking and snatching those who are out late. Or he crawls into a bedroom, staying just out sight of the person on the bed as he makes his way towards it. Any time an improperly closed door opens by itself it could be him...

There are two hearts, not one, inside of my chest,That heat me and beat me from beneath the same breast,Two hearts here inside me all of my life,Two hearts that divide me and lead me to strife.

One heart is cold and it beats slowly but strong,It only wakes from its slumber when things have gone wrong.It cares not a bit for the details or pain;It just does the math, sees the truths that are plain:That the lesser evil of several is the right path to take,Even when what is lesser is bad enough to break,My other, warmer heart, that would quake and refuse,To weigh grisly horrors and could never choose,To live or to act when all acts are impure,And strength is what’s needed to overcome, to endure.No fear has my cold heart, just a grim, evil grin,It just shrugs and it nods when the bad things begin.

When the path to compassion and mercy leads through,Ruthless action and endurance and dreadful deeds I must do,My cold heart only smiles as the bad news comes in,When the delicacies all die and it’s time to begin.

Immune to distraction, it’s that heart I trust,When strength is what is needed to do what I must.To do things that no one ever wishes to do,To make tough decisions that I will come to rue,To prevent what is worse, to save all that can be, Knowing that one day those actions will damn me,When my warmer heart suffers long after the danger,Sees memories of horrors, and in my mirror, a stranger.

There are two hearts, not one, inside of my chest,That heat me and beat me from beneath the same breast, Two hearts here inside me right from my start,Two hearts that divide me and tear me apart.

One heart is warm, its beats swift and sure,With a rhythm that’s stronger when my conscience runs pure.It burns me and turns me from cold deeds to kind,It slows me and shows me the grief and its signs.It hears the hurt that lies hidden in laughter,Sees the wounds and the bruises and the scars that come after.It wakes me and makes me reach out my hand,To soothe and to comfort, to guide, and to stand,Between what is weak and the things that mean harm,It lends speed to my mind and strength to my arm.

It cares a great deal for the details and pain,It adds them all up, sees the truth that is plain:Limits don’t matter when choosing the right path to take,Better to try and to fail or to break.

I try to live up to my warm heart’s ideals,Though it shames me and blames me when things that are real,Defeat me and beat me with my own good intentions,Or haunt my mind with my own dark inventions.

Its my warm heart’s tender notions that make life worth living,They sustain me and restrain me and prompt me to giving,Recalling the days I spent on my knees,And the moments of mercy and the wisdom shown me.